


The Fox and the Hound

by mylow2851



Category: Homestuck, MS Paint Adventures
Genre: Abuse, Alcoholism, Anorexia, Bullying, Sadstuck, Self Harm, attempted suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-19
Updated: 2013-04-19
Packaged: 2017-12-08 21:52:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/766437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mylow2851/pseuds/mylow2851
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As time passes, promises break, even if you don't intend for them to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Fox and the Hound

**Author's Note:**

> Oh god I'm sorry.  
> I wrote this at 4 AM about a month ago and I never really thought about posting it until now. I added an extra thousand words today, though.  
> I worked really hard to make sure this had exactly 3000 words, too. Dunno why, really, just wanted to.  
> Mind the trigger warnings please (minor mentions of self harm, anorexia, alcoholism, abuse, suicide attempts and bullying).

“Dave, you’re my very best friend!”

“And you’re mine too, John.”

“And we’ll be friends forever, won’t we?”

“Yeah, forever.”

 

Thirty-three years ago seems like forever and a day away. Thirty-three years of the best friendship you could ever imagine. Dave was the best friend you ever could have had, and even when he moved away in the seventh grade, you still kept in touch. And now you were going to see him again someday. Hopefully just like long ago.

You smiled to yourself. Thirty-three years with the best best-friend on the planet. You remember how he cried when he told you he and his brother were moving to Texas, and how he made you promise never to tell anyone. You kept that promise, and you knew you would take it to your grave, silly as that would sound.

When you had first made Pesterchum’s at ages thirteen and twelve, you both laughed that you would probably never use them. When Dave moved away two months later the silly social app was your lifeline. That summer you spent with him in the southern heat, panting and eating snow-cones like the little kids you were. But you wouldn’t admit to being immature now. Neither of you, truthfully. Dave would say he was always a badass, say that he never missed you and that he didn’t experience emotions, but you knew that was a lie.

You remembered him messaging you late at night, sometimes going as far as calling you or using a video chat. He’d tell you how things were going terribly, and you remember the night he told you he couldn’t take it. He showed you terrible scars on his arms and legs and you cried, showing him yours. When you met up two weeks later at Rose’s for Christmas, you both scampered into your room, collapsing on the bed in an over-emotional mess. Well, you were an emotional mess, Dave just sort of let you cry into his shoulder.

After a getting a concussion later that year from the bullies Dave spent the entire summer with you, making sure you were okay, keeping you company and just making you smile. The whole drive to the airport was awkward that last day, and you remember how you kissed him and then felt a little bad about it, hoping he just thought it was a strange impulse. Which it was in a way.

And then there you were, boarding a plane to go live with your best friend in Texas, after telling your father everything, from the cutting and burning to the bullies at school to the possible anorexia to the fact that Dave was the only person who ever made you happy. He finally gave in and Dave’s brother was okay with it, not really caring either way. Well unless Dave didn’t tell him which was possible.

Dave gave a half-wave to you as you approached, toting your bags with your scrawny arms. You smiled and before you knew it you were home, settling into the spare bedroom, having Dirk (who you had never really called “Bro”) dropped through a trap door in your room scaring the shit out of you. After the initial shock you laughed as you punched him weakly in the arm.

In a month’s time Dad moved down and into an apartment in the same building, and everything felt right and happy and you could smile once again. You quit cutting and you started eating and everything felt great.

One day Dave stormed into your apartment in the middle of the night, not making a sound until he woke you up, grumbling about stupid and insensitive Dirk was and how Terezi just dumped him out of nowhere for this guy Gamzee. You just listened to him vent for a few hours and fell asleep with his head in your lap. You both never brought up the awkward hard-on you woke up with the next morning, and definitely not how Dave offered to “fix it for you.”

He took you as his “totally ironic” date for prom that year, and you made a complete idiot out of yourself. But no one hurt you for it and you never got shit from anyone, and that was what mattered, you were safe for the first time in a long time. You couldn’t stop giggling most of that night and it was perfect. Well, to you anyway.

The next year he actually asked you, completely un-ironically, and you thought about it for three days before telling him that you would love to go with him. You felt like a little school-girl that night and when Dave kissed you, your head spun a bit and you couldn’t help but smile just a bit.

That night you stayed at a hotel with him, and when you went back home two days later you lied and told your dad you slipped and landed really hard on your ass. You know he didn’t believe you, but it made you feel a little better, kind of.

You made Dave promise soon after that, that you would never forget each other and in college you would call at least once every week. He promised you without hesitation and for a long, long time, you both kept your promise, still talking over Pesterchum and calling more than once a week.

But in time you started to grow apart, and you broke up for the better. You hadn’t seen each other in months and it was getting difficult, Rose suggested it might be for the best. You still kept in touch, and when you met up you ended up in a not-so-awkward sloppy make-out session that ended a little more serious than you would have liked to admit.

One day the phone calls stopped being so frequent and the messages on Pesterchum started to slow. Eventually you quit video calls and you started to grow apart, slowly becoming submerged in your own separate lives. You met a girl named Vriska and fell in love with her, though you never loved her as much as you did Dave. She knew that, and even gave you the option to be with him if you were to meet up, as long as you didn’t break up with her for Dave unless Dave still cared. You settled down and had a kid, you named her Casey and she made you so, so happy.

Casey’s first words were “Daddy” and “John” and you couldn’t help but smile every time she said the smallest of words. You watched her grow older, from twelve months to two years. You taught her to walk and when she was three you started teaching her piano. She was a natural at it, much like yourself. Her short blonde hair grew longer and longer over time, her curiosity growing with time.

You loved Vriska and you loved Dave, you loved your father and your mother and so many other people, but Casey? You loved Casey more than anyone, and she loved you. Vriska watched as you all grew older. At three years old Casey held your hand as you walked her to the park, talking your ear off about everything she could possibly think of. She met her first friend at three years old, at a park under a weeping willow tree. His name was originally Teresa, but he insisted on Terry. At three years old your daughter learned that not all boys are born as a boy.

At four, Casey hugged you goodnight as she stood at the front door of Terry’s house, his parents smiling above you. Three days later Casey told you a secret that weighed your heart down, causing you to cry for the first time in years. Terry had a sister once, a sweet little girl named Tammy. Her stroller rolled onto a subway track when she was two. Terry was born a week later. Terry’s parents loved Casey and adored having her over, you couldn’t help but feel sad, knowing they would never see their young daughter Tammy again. You wished you could have met her, could have saved her, could have done something.

At five years old Casey is standing at her best friends funeral. She’s not sure what’s going on, and you know what it’s like to lose someone at such a small age. You lost your mother when you were five, after all. Dave stood there with you at the funeral, but both of you didn’t know what was going on. You didn’t get why your father kept crying, he wouldn’t stop crying. Casey asked you at the funerl, “Daddy, why are you and Mommy crying? Why’s Terry not waking up when I tap him on the shoulder? Where are his mommy and daddy? Where did they go?” You hugged your daughter tight, telling her that Terry wouldn’t wake up, and that she wouldn’t see Terry’s parents again, that they did something bad and were in a really, really long time out. She asked you at least eight times if she would ever be in a time out like Terry’s parents. You promised her that she wouldn’t.

At six, Casey was diagnosed with leukemia. She didn’t understand it, and you knew that was okay. You took her to Disney World and then to New York, all sorts of other places, trying to show her the world, since you weren’t sure how long she’d have the chance. She died of leukemia eight years after she was born. You were only twenty five then.

Dave called you a couple of times, usually hitting voicemail. He said he found some guy named Karkat and that they were going to get married. He invited you to the wedding but you didn’t go,  instead ending up at the hospital with Casey, crying as her last breath escaped her. He called a few days later and for the first time in months you picked up. He asked where you were and if you were okay, and when you told him he offered to come and spend time with you. You declined, telling him you needed to comfort your wife and work with funeral arrangements.

For the rest of the next two years you fell into a deep depression, relying mainly on alcohol and the familiar sting of a knife. Vriska didn’t question you about it, and you didn’t question her. Your marriage managed to stay intact, probably because you both knew there was no one to blame. Still, you missed Casey more than you ever thought possible. Dave didn’t visit you at all, and you eventually told him to stop calling, that you just needed time alone. Even if you knew that wouldn’t help you at all.

Two years after Casey’s death you managed to get yourself clean, starting to feel better. After Vriska’s incident, you knew you both needed to shape up and go on, moving on but not forgetting. You both sat at Casey’s grave every night for a week, talking to her, telling her about how sorry you were and how you didn’t want to deal with her death, but knowing that you had to. You held Vriska for the first time in years, both of you crying as you lie in bed, for once talking about how much everything just hurt.

You made it big in the music industry, your piano skills suddenly striking a chord and skyrocketing. You were popular, really popular, lively songs escaping you through your fingers, lighting up the room with a beautiful melody. You thought of the happy days you had with Casey and Vriska, bringing light into your music with songs you knew they’d both love. Occasionally sadder songs slipped through, songs that reminded you of the bad days, when you were a kid and being harassed at school, when Dave quit talking to you, when Casey died and when Vriska nearly died, over-dosing on her depression medication. But your music always turned light again, always finding something to remember that could make you smile like before.

Dave made millions off of the Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff movies, the fans of his comics practically jumping with excitement. The movies were “ironically” funny, and you watched them with Vriska, laughing when she said it was the stupidest thing the comedy business had ever allowed on the market. Needless to say she loved it in time.

You and Dave ended up at the same award show, and then the same after party. Which was where you stood now. Thirty-six years ago this man, Dave Strider, became your very best friend. And now as you look at him, you think “I can’t really call him my best friend anymore, can I?”

After several moments of just staring, not sure if your eyes were deceiving you, you take a few steps closer towards him. “Dave?” His eyes widen with recognition, a small smile working its way to his lips. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

“John? Oh, God, hey. Wow it’s been… What, nine years?” He relaxes a bit, sauntering towards you, motioning to a sofa not far away.

“Yeah, about nine years.”

“How’s everything been? How’s your wife?” He walks with you over to the sofa and you sit with him, watching him swirl the glass of wine in his hand. When did he start drinking wine? Didn’t seem much like the type, you thought. Maybe you were wrong, though. Time can change people, you learned.

“She’s doing a lot better. It’s been eight years and, uh, she’s getting better. She helps me with my music sometimes, and I always love the songs she helps with most.” You smile, thinking about Vriska. “I’m doing pretty great myself, I guess. Like I said, it’s been eight years and,” you falter a bit as the thought of Casey flashes through your head like a lightning bolt, “she’d be sixteen next week, you know…” Dave just nods and puts his hand on yours sympathetically. “What about you?”

“Well, Karkat’s still as terrible as ever, but I love him. Work’s great I’m sure you can tell, I’ve got everything I could ever want. Bro died last year. I tried to call to tell you, invite you to the funeral, but you never answered me.”

The air just feels so, so awkward and everything suddenly hurts. “Dave I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine look it happens all of the time. It’s not your fault we don’t talk much anymore. Just…  it was just college. Don’t be sorry shit like that happens to everyone, even if you didn’t want it to.”

You look him over and realize how much he looks like his brother now. Great, just great, there go the emotions. “Dave, no it’s just… I promised you we’d be friends forever but whatever that’s not it I just… I miss you, I thought for sure we’d still be friends, but that was so long ago. I feel bad for my past self, knowing that he’s going to go through all of this hell.”

You feel his arms around you and you melt just a bit, feeling familiar and nostalgic. Smaller details run through your mind, like the time when you were nine and you both swore you could fly. You ended up with matching casts. Dave told everyone at school that you guys got them fighting off an alien invasion. At that memory, everything leaves you in a bit of a rush and you find yourself crying, muttering something stupid.

But Dave gets it because you two were best friends once, and everything that had happened hurt. You weren’t near each other anymore, you didn’t get to joke about how stupid his brother’s company was or how much you hated your dad’s cakes (even if now, years after his death, you secretly missed them). You two no longer spent time spying on the neighbors, pretending you were secret agents working for the queen of England, talking in stupid fake accents that were more Russian than English. No time at all, but it was over and suddenly it just didn’t feel right. Everything felt off. It felt wrong, years misplaced and skewed, everything felt so… Wrong.

“I… We’re not best friends anymore, are we, Dave?” You asked quietly, stealing a quick glance at his stoic face, remembering how he used to smile and how those stupid sunglasses used to come off when you two were alone.

“John, we haven’t been best friends for a long time…” He deflates a bit, and you realize that after so long you won’t be friends again. Nothing will ever change that, nothing will magically make the barrier go away, the time tick backwards. That nothing will ever be the same. Because you broke a promise that never should have been broken, and you lied to yourselves. But more importantly, you lied to each other, even if you didn’t mean to.

Words from years past drifted into your mind, flashes from your childhood. The bright, curious red eyes of your best friend the day you met. Everything from your past, everything you remember. And even some things you barely do, things that seem so miniscule. Dave’s smile, his laugh, the time you’d spent living with him in high school. The way it felt to kiss him, the way it felt that night after prom. The promise you’d made before you went into college and the way you had listened to Rose, thinking that maybe it wouldn’t have been this way if you didn’t. But you know it would. It would have been the same no matter what, because that’s what set-timelines do. They’re set, everything turns out the way it would despite certain circumstances. It all hurts when you remember the words you’d both said all of those thirty-three years ago:

“Dave, you’re my very best friend!”

“And you’re mine too, John.”

“And we’ll be friends forever, won’t we?”

“Yeah, forever.”

 

Back then nothing hurt.


End file.
